INSIDE FRANCE

Hauraki Plains Gazette, Volume 52, Issue 3267, 24 May 1943, Page 6

INSIDE FRANCE

HUNGER AND HOPE PEASANTS GROWN CANNY MANY “FIGHTING FRENCH” Behind the veil that hides France, now completely overrun by the enemy, there is inward apathy/3but also great faith in the future. By G. H. Archambault 1 in the New York Times Magazine, who tells something of France’s condition. What is happening in France today ? Much. But little of it is known. One thing is plain, nevertheless: France is living negatively now that “collaboration” has been translated into coercion. She has no army, no navy, no air force, in practice no government. Pathetic claims to “sovereignty” chnnot veil the fact that Germans and Italians overrun the land. Petain may be Monarch of all he surveys, but his purview is confined to Vichy, and Hitler has “placed at his disposal” Marshal von Runstedt, commander of occupied areas in Western Europe. So much for the national field. The •individual, too, meets negatives at every turn —no liberties, of course, and no news, but also no sugar, no tobacco, no wine, no matches, no gasoline, no strings, no brass tacks even; little food, little fuel, little clothing, little •comfort, little of anything. Yet great hopes. Vichy and Paris In Vichy, jerry-built and artificial, official France, rather symbolically, is located in a hotel, the Hotel du Parc. There Henri-Philippe Petain, Marshal without troops and ruler without realm, grants audiences and signs laws. He dresses well, eats well, His entourage, both French and German, insists periodically that he is perfectly fit, mentally and, physically. A special staff sees to it that his portrait and, the texts of his messages are distributed to the last hamlet. There also Pierre Laval has his quarters. He makes laws, discharges and appoints civil servants, conscripts labour for Germany, orders arrests and internments; he governs with a heavy hand that he may crush all opposition. Each week he goes to Paris to consult Otto Abetz, who represents the Third Reich. He seems weary and ill at ease. He cannot forget the bullets that were pumped into his carcass, so each night he is driven to his country house some miles out, and the police guard is strong. All around are other hotels, each pretending to be a Ministry. They are fitted with Laval’s creatures, as executives, directing a host of minor officials whose task it is to swamp the country with circular instructions destined to remain ineffective. In Paris there are other Ministries and clerks and reams of papers. There is also Count Fernand de Brinon, so proud of his unexpected rank as ambassador that he has designed for himself a comely uniform. He is Vichy’s “Spokesman”—a very apt designation, for he talks without ceasing.

In reality, in Vichy as in Paris, the daily occupation is drawing invisible water from invisible wells —under German eyes. Toil and Privation The real France is elsewhere—the France that suffers in lines outside food stores, for instance. Everything is rationed now, to be doled lout at specified hours on specified days. Newspapers announce the “distributtion”—a pompous term for one egg or three carrots. As they wait, the housewives no longer gossip; there are too many eavesdroppers. Most look wan and weak. No wonder. Normally France has a population of 40,000,000, considerably reduced to-day by prisoners of war, workers sent to Germany, deportees and fugitives to foreign lands, including recruits for “Fighting France.” Of the remainder, 10,000,000 suffer from hunger; another 10,000,000 mostly children, show reduced physical resistance. Therefore the thoughts of these women and the few words they exchange turn on rations and food tickets, on lack of milk for babies, lack of coal for cooking meals and heating rooms, lack of this, that and the other thing.

When they return home, transient, foreigners tell of French apathy. It may seem so, but appearances aie deceptive. People do not crack Jokes on empty stomachs. Could one but hear these same women in their homes, the tale might differ. There is no apathy when they listen to British or American broadcasts. They are outspoken when they consider the destination of most foodstuffs—the German occupant. And they grow' hitter when their eyes rest on the motto Petain has given France: “Toil, Family, Country.” Toil is their portion, right enough—toil and privation. But “the cjd gentleman” has no children of his

own to raise on black bread and water. As fox' country, where is it? Here, or in Africa —or in Germany? Black Market Develops In villages stomachs are filled, for the peasant, grown canny, will not part with his reserve, but his toil is even harder. He no longer tills, but grubs. Horses cost a fortune and there is no fuel for tractors, so spades replace ploughs and sickles reapers. There is no fertiliser, no spray for pests, no twine for the sheaves. But there are incessant appeals to patriotism as incitements to ever greater production—and innumerable forms to be filled out, for the bureaucrats in Paris and Vichy under German prompting tell the farmers what they should grow and how they should grow it. Callow youths wax eloquent when they draft the circulars on sugar from daffodils, and chocolate from beechnuts. The farmer shrugs his shoulders, leaves forms unfilled —and supplies the black market. In florid speeches Ministers brand the black market as the curse of France and proclaim their determination to suppress it. As well threaten to prevent the sun rising to-morrow. They have been saying this for two years—and the black market flourishes instead of declining. For long the Jews were blamed, but to-day those who are not under lock and key are watched in their every movement. Yet the black market is fast developing into a national institution.

Men and women roam the countryside on bicycles, call at farmhouses and leave with, a pound of butter or a dozen eggs. Black market! Gendarmes lie in wait to seize such illegal victuals. In railroad trains they take valises from your hands to inspect them —there may be a chicken concealed. Black market! Everyone is suspect, but no one is deterred, the big'shots especially, for it is easier to get away with a ton of potatoes than with- a pound when one is in the racket, and the conviction spreads that under the “National Revolution” laws are enacted merely to be broken. The peasant meanwhile remains impassive. Each day at the bottom of his meadow he watches a freight train chugging along; all cars bear the label “Reserved for the Army of , Occupation.” Terror and “Terrorists” Until recently all of these things might have raised a smile—and did—if only as a relief from sterner thoughts, such as hostages and executions. But now that Laval has announced his determination to crush resistance to. “collaboration” with, the Germans all faces are grim. The normal process of law has given way to special courts; the police is all-power-ful; informers are encouraged; anyone speaking his mind is dubbed a “terrorist” and spirited away to gaol oi' internment camp. “Blacklists” abound; the names on them range from national figures to obscure citizens. Some are denounced by the Germans, others by their neighbours. This occurs under the very eyes of the occupant, who sardonically concedes “sovereignty” to Vichy for such tasks. “Sovereign” Vichy closes French industrial plants and then conscripts the jobless for German service. “Sovereign” Vichy disbands its army and then suggests that the “African phalanx” will welcome recruits. A neutral traveller tells how in Savoy he witnessed this scene: A nun gazed reproachfully as two youths passed under police escort. One cried, “Don’t make any mistake, Sister. We are not criminals; we are simply volunteers for labour in Germany.” The regimented press would have it that they believe workers raise shouts of “Long live Laval!” The citizen’s every action is controlled. Identity must, be proved at every step, even to send a telegram. Most families are disrupted, what with prisoners of war, enforced labour, fugitives and internments. Everyone is suspicious, since an unconsidered word or gesture may 'bring disaster. In public places people speak in whispers or not at all.' Even the garrulous Southerner has become mute. It is so easy to be made out a “terrorist” and so difficult to disprove. The New Faith Under this stress, spiritual values long ignored are developing again—the inevitable result of persecution. There is no longer faith in “collaboration,” none in the government, none in speeches or newspaper articles or the national radio. No faith even in the currency. But now there is great faith in the future, for which in many instances apathy is but a cloak. Total occupation and the progress of the war are heartening the nation. Examples of devotion and self-sacrifice are likely to multiply. There have been many in the recent past, but discretion was imperative. It is now, for that matter. There was the case of an Australian officer and a French girl serving

him as a guide. Landed at dawn on a desolate point of the coast, unnoticed by German watchers, they made their way inland. The boat which had brought them disappeared, to return at dusk, but the surf and the sea had ifecome so rough that embarkation was out of the question. The man and the girl were marooned. None thought of denouncing them; on the contrary, they found ready aid. Several weeks later they were back in England.

There was the case of a British airman dropped by parachute. After accomplishing his mission he made for a point many miles distant—in unform. One villager had given him a raincoat, but it' failed, to conceal his blue trousers. At each stage of the journey a guide was waiting. Once he actually travelled by train. But the airman could not speak a word of French!

We have heard now something of how General Giraud escaped from captivity in Germany and we know how he got to Algeria. But how did General Astier de la Vigerie reach London from France? And what of those ■ French lads who even to-day with the Spanish border under German control find a way to join the forces of the United Nations ?

Despite threats, arrests and executions, “terrorists” for two years harassed the Germans and maintained contact with dissident groups overseas. The underground network proved its worth. It cannot but spread now that' (Pierre Laval has given the French a single choice be-

tween “collaboration” and “terrorism.” There are many “Fighting French” in France.